I've been getting more and more mentally fractured as we approach the fact finding hearing on Tuesday. My anxiety is high. I keep picturing images from those initial 48 hours.And while the sentencing is by far the greatest weight on my mind, there is a nagging that began on January 8th which has never been silenced.
Why?
As her parents, there is a certain place where the who/what/where/when/why/how just don't matter. She is our daughter and we will do whatever she needs. We will love her no matter what. We will be her support system for the rest of our days.
But the fact finding involves reading the charges; presenting the evidence; describing the events of that night; listening to testimony from the victims (potentially - this isn't confirmed yet). This nightmare will be described down to the smallest detail in front of lawyers and judges and probation officers - all while being recorded by an elderly woman who can type super fast.
In this large room, filled with dark wood furniture, with an impressive judge's bench, significantly elevated like a throne looking down on the rest of us, you are made to feel small. The room exudes the crushing weight of justice. Simply being in the room makes you feel vulnerable. Now imagine you are sitting next to your blonde haired little girl, who is 5'8" but not yet passed 100 lbs. She's been brought in by an armed guard. Transported in shackles. We sit together in the front row, directly beneath the gaze of the judge - David, then me, then Bunny, then the lawyer.
As the prosecution presents all the evidence, every single person in that room will be thinking a singular question: why?
Honestly, I'm not sure even she could answer - or that any answer she gave would satisfy an adult mind whose looking for reason and logic. I think this mystery is woven into the fabric of our family - we are forever changed by it - our paths irreparably altered by it - but never given the satisfaction of understanding.
The first several days it was nearly impossible for me to hold the two things in my head - what I knew of Bunny and what the evidence showed. After awhile it became obvious that Bunny is the same Bunny I know and love and this was a circumstance that had to be dealt with, but never reconciled in my mind.
Tuesday David and Bunny and I will go back to our assigned seats in the cavern of justice. We will sit in silent solidarity as our sweet B is painted a monster. We will join the elephant and gorilla in their confusion.
And we will pray for mercy.
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